


Here Lies Everything Unknown

by Blistering_Typhoons



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, But so is everyone else, Disgrace, Families of Choice, Family History, Gandalf Meddles, Gen, How Do I Tag, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Middle Earth, Minor Original Character(s), Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Shipping, Team Bonding, Themes of Pride, Thorin Oakenshield Is a Disaster, lots of flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22374727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blistering_Typhoons/pseuds/Blistering_Typhoons
Summary: Hildegard von Asjatten is special in that very specific way that people who reject the 'von' in their title are.But also because she's spent most of her life searching for the grey man with many names and the world known simply as 'Middle Earth' to her and her late father.Unknown to her however is that the grey man has been searching too. Searching for a way to bring her into the world she never saw, but always spoke fondly of. Wizards always have a plan and for them to come to fruition, something entirely unexpected has to happen.And thus a door opens.Or similiarly, a nervous wreck of a vague academic falls into Arda and joins the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.
Relationships: Balin/Dori (Tolkien), Bifur/Óin (Tolkien), Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bofur/Nori (Tolkien), Bombur/Bombur's Wife, Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien), Gandalf | Mithrandir & Original Female Character(s), Glóin/Glóin's Wife, Thorin's Company & Original Female Character(s), others revealed later
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Here Lies Everything Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> The last time I wrote an original character, I was twelve and it wasn't pretty. Let's hope this time it goes better.
> 
> Disclaimer- no matter how hard I try, I myself am not a seasoned academic nor am I acquainted as deeply with the lore as some. Please be gentle with me.
> 
> Now without further ado, enjoy this absolute randomness. I hope she doesn't annoy you xD

_Shanghai, ‘Old Town’  
Friday, May, 2011  
_

Screams and general shouting crowd the thick, smoky air, choking off any chance of easy breathing. Boxes and baskets clatter to the cracked pavement, adding to the general humid air of chaos.

To a wizard though, the air was practically clean and mountainous and the surroundings almost peaceful. Gandalf smiles lightly at the perplexed and amused glances he’s regarded with as people hurry by.

He’s been stared at more than probably any being in the vast universes and the roving and unblinking eyes here are indeed friendlier than most of his encounters.  
He puffs on his pipe contently, the smoke joining it’s aforementioned big brother, disappearing into a soft neon glow.

To an outsider he’s the perfect picture of an old, probably rich, foreigner taking a stroll for the culture. 

Perfectly innocent, though his eyes darted almost wildly from face to face, teeth nibbling the softened wood of his pipe. His fingers sliding against another in slight anxiety from within the grey pocket of his immaculate suit. The soft doubtful mutters in the back of his throat.

A yell sounds from his left and within seconds six more voices follow. 

And Gandalf smiles, turning around quietly to observe.  
The face is contorted in a frown, the hands are clenched into fists and the frame is lanky. The voice is loud and boisterous and the eyes craving attention.

The perfect storyteller.

And the wizard moves forward with a perfectly innocent smile on his face.

Footsteps pound the creaky and ancient wooden floors, causing them to protest and groan like a teenager roused from the depths of slumber. Various delicate objects rattle dangerously on old cabinets as the inhabitant scrambles down a rickety pair of stairs desperately.

‘’Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshit _shi-_ ‘’, comes the panicked voice, drifting through the musty corridors of the house.

Dust, not used to the disturbance, fly into the air gracefully as slippered feet skid recklessly through their peaceful little mounds. 

A wail of panic and despair sounds through the air as the doorbell rings for the fourth time.

Hildegard von Asjatten stifles a shriek as she descends the last stairway, huffing with fear and exertion.

‘’I-I’m- huuh- I’m coming! Hold on!’’, she cries out, sliding down the bottom corridor to stand at the hall’s mirror.

Voices chatter impatiently from outside as Hildegard desperately pulls the teased, scraggly and greasy strands of brown hair through the hairtie that has been slowly cutting of the circulation in her wrist. With one more haggard look in the mirror and a prayer to whoever, she heaves a deep sigh to control her breathing and marches resolutely to the half dilapidated front door.

‘’I say dearest sister is it going to take all day?’’, Heraldr von Asjatten’s nasally voice asks, followed by the closest thing you can get to a cackle without it actually being something as uncouth as a cackle.

Hildegard purses her lips and leans against the door lightly, before giving in and slowly easing the door open.

A barrage of genuine fur coats, expensive jewellery and cold judgemental gazes burst through the door.

Hildegard nearly topples over with a shriek, hand twisting awkwardly from it’s position on the faded gold handle.

‘’Oh my God, girl! Do you never clean?’’, comes the voice of her grandmother, the sentiment echoed eagerly by her daughter.

Hildegard rolls her eyes as she closes the door, face heating up slightly.

‘’I would’ve done just that if I was warned maybe a day in advance that you were coming. You said yourself that I have no notable companions, which means no visitors.’’, she explains quickly, shoving the door back into place with a grunt.

Her brother laughs.

It’s a pitchy, tittering thing and soon it’s inventor, her mother, joins.

‘’Well then, I suppose it’s our fault for not bringing the feather dusters this time.’’, Dierdrich sniffs, the ancient woman making her way to the sitting room.

Which in Hildegard’s house was, like every other room, an honorary library and museum.

Stacks and tipping towers of old tomes and newer publications litter the large, sunlit space. Scrolls and manuscripts of various detailed and educational drawings serve as padding or even bookmarks. Candle wax drips off the hole ridden shelves, the moth eaten sofas and the desk plonked in the middle of the whole affair.

Hildegard cringes at her family’s silent reaction.

The Asjattens are a loud, snobbish, pretentious, proud, deceitful, hateful, loud, angry, backstabbing, judgemental and above all loud family. Which is only to be expected when you have a ‘von’ in your title. Their family lineage cannot be traced, seemingly having decided once upon a time to take a drunken, debauched trip through the entirety of Europe and see what comes out.

For them to be silent is worse than their constant sniping remarks.

She just hopes they don’t stay.

‘’Shall I fetch us something to drink?’’, she inquires warily, drawing the green tattered robe draped onto her thick frame tighter.

‘’Ah, yes! Tea for me please, no sugar, no milk.’’, her mother says dismissively.

Hildegard snorts internally. It was her grandmother’s exact order.

Margriet von Asjatten (neé Galroy) is of English heritage and desperation. Hildegard had grown up watching her mother leech onto anything succesful and subsequently morph into it, resulting in a notably abhorrent French accent. Failing in that (which was inevitable) she’d fall back on her usual pastime- sucking up to Dierdrich.

Hildegard has a sneaking suspicion the only reason her grandmother has tolerated the foreign member of their family for this long is because Dierdrich loves control (or at least feeling like she’s in it) and a desperate daughter-in-law is the perfect candidate.

‘’A glass of wine for me.’’, Heraldr says simply.

‘’Yes Your Majesty.’’, Hildegard mutters with the amusement one cultivates out of prolonged suffering.

A few minutes and lots of shouting later, Hildegard is sucking in her breath and balancing the ‘refreshments’ on a dented silver plate.

‘’Hm. Took you some time. Now answer truthfully- what were you doing in Shanghai? Don’t try and lie to me, for I know you were there and wish to know the reason immediately.’’, Dierdrich says haughtily, bringing the thick ceramic mug up to her disapproving lips.

Hildegard tenses softly, hands hovering over the file she’s trying to shove into a place of no recognition. The pipe in her pocket seems to suddenly grow significantly heavier and more obvious to the keen observers. 

‘’Oh. Shanghai. It was just a culture trip, nothing fancy.’’, she replies airily, hands now gripping the edge of the damning paperwork.

‘’You take culture trips, Hildy? I would never have guessed! Should I have known, I’d have invited you to Egypt last month!’’, Heraldr drawls, voice dripping with condescending malice.

Hildegard chuckles lightly.

‘’You were after it again, weren’t you!’’, Margriet shrieks, her face triumphant and eyes wild.

Her mother did so enjoy solving the most obvious of mysteries.

‘’After what, mother?’’, Hildegard answers, voice slightly higher than usual.

She should never had let them in, _goddamnit-_

Dierdrich laughs derisively, setting down the mug with a sharp clang.

‘’You know exactly what, Hildegard. It’s the very same thing that ruined your father’s life and career! What did he call him again? ‘The Grey One’? Oh please.’’

‘’But he was right! There really is an old man in grey that travels-‘’, Hildegard bursts out, only to be cut off once again by her grandmother.

‘’Travels between what? The realms? How much had he poisoned your mind?’’

‘’No, only two and I can name it! I am so close to finding out and doing your own son proud!’’, Hildegard exclaims, biting back the venomous remark she wishes to hurl at her grandmother.

‘’Hildegard, please, listen to your mummy. Give up what my husband so stupidly pursued all his life and come back to us! We’ll forgive you and who knows, might be able to set you up with a nice man of your own. A sane one that is.’’, Margriet adds, wide eyes vacant behind a facade of motherly concern.

Hildegard grits down on her molars and breathes in deeply. Of course they only came here to deride her into coming back to them.

‘’I’m going to ignore both the comments about Dad and my dating life and instead show you what I’ve gathered!’’, she manages, turning sharply on her heel to retrieve a book from the empty glass display case by the entrance to the living room.

The ancient pages crackle slightly as she reverently traces the back of her hand over them. She finally plops the file on top and inhales into the speaking habits of her old professor.

‘’Right, firstly this file right here?’’, she pauses, holding up the object in question with raised eyebrows.

Her assorted family members chuckle and Heraldr even makes himself comfortable on his sofa. Hildegard bristles, but continues anyways.

‘’This file contains the stories, first hand accounts from people who have seen the ‘wizard’ as they keep calling him, from all around the world! This one here I interviewed in Shanghai and his story dates back to 2011.’’

Silence.

‘’The man’s English name he gave to me is Ben, and he says he was approached by the wizard one night when he was helping his brother load up a dozen crates of spices and such into their truck. From here my Mandarin, already complicated by their unique dialect, started to slip a bit, but I gathered something went wrong and he stormed off either to a bar or a restaurant. Doesn’t matter because as he was ordering something for himself, an older foreign gentleman approached his table/seat and asked if he may join him.’’

‘’And what, this irate Shanghainese just accepts his invitation?’’, Heraldr says, tone amused.

Here Hildegard pauses. 

Friedrich von Asjatten had spend the majority of his life trying to convince his family to support him. Countless lectures had he given in front of the roaring fire, chalk crumbling onto the ailing blackboard as he scribbled proof madly. 

They had of course, never believed him. 

Now she’s doing the same. All these facts, this innate knowledge that there is something out there. Another world, a traveller who hops between them at will.

_Middle Earth.  
_

And yet, no belief. No broadening of the general scope of the mind.

‘’You know it is a shame you decided to follow in Friedrich’s footsteps. You do have a certain academic potential, or detective mind you.’’, Dierdrich remarks, and blessedly begins to rise out of her seat.

Hildegard huffs out a breath.

‘’This is academic.’’, she snaps, waving the thick file defensively around.

‘’Hmf. Hardly.’’, Margriet answers, springing out of her seat to assist her mother-in-law.

‘’Yes. While I can’t say this hasn’t been fun, sister mine, but perhaps next time we visit you’ll have your affairs in order? And by affairs I of course mean your general sanity.’’, Heraldr chuckles, plonking down the empty wine glass with some force.

‘’I should say not.’’, Hildegard says coldly, making her way to the front door.

After some difficulty, she finally swings open the grand monstrosity. Her grandmother strides out, quickly followed by her brother.

Amazingly her mother lingers in the doorway.

Hildegard sags, but only slightly.

‘’Yes mum?’’

‘’You know... Baron Vitzweiger is still single-‘’

Hildegard cringes into the soft soles of her slippers.

‘’No. Thank you, for your consideration, but no.’’, Hildegard states firmly, drawing herself up to her entire 5’5 stubbornly.

‘’Tsk. Just like your father.’’

A pause.

‘’Did you try and set father up with Vitzweiger too-‘’

‘’No, you stupid girl!’’

Somewhere in the black, abyssal plains of nothing and everything, a door appears.

It is not a very important door, but it’s certainly easier to open and admits only one person, forcibly restricting the risk of crowding. 

It’s not as impressive as the pools, but the mind behind that one was certainly more creative. 

Now all that was left to do, is walk through.

Or more specifically, go flying in arse over teakettle.

Gandalf huffs in annoyance as he exits Hobbiton, smoke bellowing at alarming rates out of his newer pipe.

He’s beginning to regret leaving his old one with Ben, but he’s made larger sacrifices in the name of a plan before.

And now he’s had a small wrench thrown in the current plan, seeing that Belladonna’s son had more Baggins than Took in him. No matter, he was certain should the pre-existing company arrive, the fussy hobbit will be convinced.

Now that only left the girl. Though by now she was probably no longer a girl, but a true scholar.

Gandalf allows a smile to steal over his face.

Of course only Friedrich’s daughter would track him down so ruthlessly and efficiently. He sighs softly, slowing his brisk pace.

Now all that was left was to bring her here.

Trudging up the stairs much slower this time, Hildegard contemplates Ben’s story.

The man had been a bit older when she had interviewed him, and asked her more questions than she had him. She couldn’t answer most of them.

She had asked him why he accepted the wizard’s invitation and he had just shrugged.

‘’I feel ok with him.’’, he had informed her, English spoken in stuttered doubt.

She had thanked him profusely afterwards and then spent the night having an excellent dinner with his family, mood pensive but cheerful.

Reaching the closed door of her room, she thumps her head lightly against the wall. She wonders if her father ever felt this crushing dismay. He’d always been so optimistic.

Sighing with exhaustion she creaks open the door and steps in.

The floor is carpeted in here and it’s one of the only things she bothers to clean, along with the dishes. She had found out the hard way what happens when both were neglected for a long time.

Walking heavily towards her window seat (the large, oval shape also clean) she flops down onto the musty pillows and blanket.

Photographs and red woolly lines decorate the corkboard next to her bed in the corner. The wool was more of an aesthetic choice really, as the little shop had a whole myriad of colours to choose from.

She had just needed a little bit whimsy to stave of the creeping madness of her existence.

The photographs themselves are of various cities in various countries, people of every ethnicity and class she’s interviewed and the one in the middle is a blurry, grainy, shaky picture of a tall figure in pale grey, originating from the 70s.

‘’You’ve made my life very difficult you have.’’, she mutters to the cold and unfeeling air.

As usual there is a silence, save for the ticking of the clock on her bedside...thing. It didn’t deserve to be called a table.

With a groan of the vaguely petulant variety, Hildegard swings herself into a sitting position.

Sunshine greets her irises like a very bubbly, eager old school friend flinging themselves bodily at you. The damp air of her bedroom is replaces by a rather forceful breeze and a woosh passes her by loudly.

She shrieks and shields her eyes, the sudden movement sending her toppling onto something soft and slightly moist. 

_Grass.  
_

The door closes with a dramatic slam.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far in this self indulgent thingie, I am exceedingly proud of it.
> 
> Feedback always welcome :D


End file.
